176 A MIDNIGHT SCENE. [CHAP. iv. 



I have more than once after nightfall passed a quiet 

 half-hour at our cottage door inhaling the saline breath of 

 the mighty sea. The look-out at midnight is very beautiful : 

 the Cumbrae light looked like a monitor telling us that even 

 at that dread hour we were watched over. On the opposite 

 coast of Ayr a huge ironwork threw a lurid glare upon the 

 bosom of the sea, and almost at my feet the restless waves 

 were playing a mournful dirge on the boulder-crowded beach. 

 I could see along the water to Holy Island, and could almost 

 feel the silence that at that moment would render the cave of 

 old Saint Molio a wondrous place for holding a feast of the 

 imagination, the viands being brought forward from a far-back 

 time, and the island again peopled with the quaint races that 

 had passed a brief span of life upon its shores who had been 

 warmed by the same sun as had that day shone upon me, 

 and whose nights had been illumined by the same moon that 

 was now shimmering its soft radiance upon the liquid bosom 

 of the sparkling waters. 



